A Spew of Updates

I've written a lot of poetry since my last update. I will attempt the long task of posting them all here. Here goes...I wrote all of these poems within 20 minutes while on a trip in Michigan.

drive

crying canine kick the b-line bully the b-bop sucker the sky. eat the eavesdrop smell the sand dune  recall the rain cloud push the pedals. ride the riff-raff jump the j-walk piss the popery.

Void

Ugliness stomps above my carnage,

flies up to the limbs.

Spit my savage, then.

You sleep.

You’re here.

You’re always here.

 

Here.

Here.

 

Depressed out my

desert void.

Suck your life form,

jump to your selfishness.

You’re leaving.

You’re leaving.

All goes,

you’re here.

 

Here.

 

Here.

 

 

Matter

Beauty glides before my feet,

tumbles down to the bull rush.

Eat my core, now,

I say.

I’m awake.

I’m gone.

I’m always gone.

 

Gone.

 

Gone.

 

Maniac in your

sea garden.

Mob my ashes,

fall to my willingness.

I’m coming.

I’m coming.

Just wait,

I’m gone.

 

Gone.

 

Gone.

 

 

Crit.ick.

Kick. Stand. Com. Ic. Books. sit in. your ste.nch. r.e.a.d. away. To. Neverland. While your minimum is lacking. Dive. Be.low. off. Ice. Jibes. While. Swi. Mming. With. The. Nicknaks. Leters are bet.ter. than. 10,000 words.

 

 Poem #1

Pumping the

 

PEA pod.

 

fly on my

 

LIP            STAINED

 

Ne-

I-

Yt-

Mare.

 

Play, pretty, play play

 

Pluh

Pluh

Pluh play pluh play play

Go

down

to the

 

Tea-tock

Toktoktoktok

Laugh,

 

                                                Hmmm, laugh.

 

Whoo-HA!

 

Snippidy snap

Tily snackidy snack

Snack

            Snack

                        Snack

-------------------------------------------------------

BACK

 

 

 Waste.d

Take Crave-see

 

Smiiiiile

 

Baby, smIIIIII leh

 

How goooooes

the rain-

for-

rest zippidy zippidy

in that mind mind.

 

Stoooop eating him

with

 

your

 

Raaaaansack

Muh

YOU

Sings.

 

Be gooooone

and

leh

eve

him to

chug chug chug chug

spit, fuck it,

da-rink

to dah-dah-dam

death.

Waaaaaa

Ate!

Ate!

Take lazy,

make crazy.

Still here,

Heeeee                        willbe.

Well hmmm...

I hope somebody gets something out of this, or at least reads this. Oh, who am I kidding, we mostly write for ourselves...I think.

Do you ever get so inspired by someone or something that you just melt into it?

Today I boarded myself up in my room and worked on making a rug and watched Andy Warhol films. I didn't go to class, didn't go out (except to get a 12 pack of Diet Coke from Seven Eleven). I kind of just want to stay here doing that for a while, maybe a week. Life continues on, though. It doesn't adapt to my little obsessions.

Life is a dream of Edie Sedgwick and unarmed ghosts. Poetry is a dream, too, I guess. I just find reality unfavorable at times.

I don't think I can do this anymore. It just hurts so much.

I'm not your Kitty anymore

I'm not so pretty anymore

I'm just so shitty even more

Than I ever was with you.

Poetry Roughs

Here are some of my poems from the first draft of my chap book:

Magnets

purple skies
heaven wide
but i lay next to purgatory.
dirty words
feel magnetic,
but in the cerebral
i feel mixed in a blender
is this what love is?
out of sight, in my mind
but a negative
to other positives.
is this really it?
now i'm lost in the thought
of flight
of rampant touches
and unfounded intimacy.
tell me, god, what this should be.
i'm trapped in a hormonal hell
while you sizzle to char.
take me to the winds of polyamoury
and surprise me with a kite
(or maybe a conch shell).

Insanity

Not friends, not lovers
More in-betweens
Companions in mind-fuck insanity
That never ceases to intrigue me
It challenges any stability
I thought I had
Call you two people
Call me decision-less and obsessive
I'm guessing we are both closer to accuracy
Than error
Your staggered identity
My see-saw emotions
Blend oh so perfectly
That it's irresistible

They say two wrongs
Don't make a right
But they sure do make
For a hell of a ride
So cheers to us fellow thrill seeker
I accept that we are destined
To be fucked up together
So the next time I swear
We are over and done
Just know that I'm penning
Hearts around your name
At the same time.

Untitled

Sunnyside down.
Same taste, but the egg's no good.

My boyfriend broke up with me. A flood of poems to come.

Progress

I am making the final touches on my first, self-published poetry collection. It should be completed and for sale by August. I can't wait! Oh, and a preview...it is called "{Voices}"

The Psych Ward

Eyes shatter, shatter, shatter

Down the drain.

(I like threes)

The Blind Rose

Can a blind man touch a rose?

Oh surely, he can.

He must shyly climb his fingers

Up its stem.

Pull back, pull back, another trip

To come.

As time grows,

As he grows,

So do his trips to the rose.

He climbs and climbs so high,

Then he rests his fingers on

Satin, savory rose buds.

Oh yes, a blind man can touch a rose.

But then, you ask, how can

He worship such a flimsy, ironic blossom?

Well, every color has a smell.

We are stuck in small boxes

Of green, blue, yes, no.

What about the color of touch?

It exists, ignored by almost all

Except the blind man.

Oh yes, a blind man can worship a rose.

Can a blind man kill a rose?

Oh no, and neither can you.

For roses grow from human hearts

To kill a rose would be to kill oneself.

Can a blind man kill himself?

Definitely not.

Mortality is but a lie from a rock,

A very sly rock at that.

He screams death and we believe him

However he remains intact.

But there is a secret from

The rose that one can only feel.

You may see the rock's lie

And live to dance in circles

But the blind man just basks in the roses

Immortal, like all

The seeing scribblers.

 Cigarettes

Bang, bang, bang on the window glass

Come save me- I need cigarettes.

Everyone itches here

Nobody works here.

We are all broken toys

And they are the children,

Trying to put us back together

With Elmer's glue.

We are still broken.

We are still broken.

We are still broken.

Hop on a merry-go-round

Feed us meds, meds, meds

Tell your feelings to be quiet

Let us teach you how to die

But remember, it is quiet time.

Come save me- I need cigarettes.

Your paper degrees cannot win me sanity.